


setting fire to our insides

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: thick skin, elastic heart [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Would you make a deal with the devil, if you knew what it cost?  </p>
<p>Cloud makes a deal; his life, for Aerith's.  But it's more complicated than Hades lets him know, and soon Cloud is plummeting into the darkness of the underworld, losing more of his humanity as the days go by.</p>
<p>The story of how Cloud Strife fell into the clutches of hell - and how those he loves brought him out again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. shadows settle

**Author's Note:**

> This story is gonna be /very/ dark before it gets bright. And it will have a happy ending, and a reunion with all Cloud's friends - but first it's gonna be dark. I'll tag and warn for everything in each chapter.

### setting fires to our insides

 

_And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones_  
_'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs_  
_Setting fire to our insides for fun_  
_Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong_  
_The lovers that went wrong_

\- Daughter, "Youth"

~-o-0-o-~

 

_“_ _Why’d you go along with him?”_

_Cloud glances at the boy with heavy eyes, burdened with the weight of years of living in the dark.  The answer to his question is long and difficult.  It’s not something the boy needs to know._

_“… I was looking for someone.  Hades promised to help.”_

 

* * *

 

  ** _Ten Years Prior_**

The hand hovers in front of him, a promise, a threat, an impossible choice.  His freedom, for the life of his friend.  His soul, for the soul of the girl who gave her life for the planet – a planet that is now gone.

Everything is gone.  Gaia, Edge, his friends and family, the people he’s lost, and the ghosts that guided him.  All gone.  Taken the night those dark creatures skittered out of the shadows, invulnerable to nearly every attack, multiplying into the millions as the battles went on.  They were hopeless.  The world filled with black and beady yellow eyes, a great sea that swallowed the earth and him with it. 

Now he is here, standing before a strange blue-skinned creature whose slick words speak of things he never dreamt possible.

“Still not on board?”  Hades huffs, hands falling to his sides.  “What’s a guy gotta do to get a little trust around here?”  A snap of his fingers; The air beside him thickens, shifts and twirls into smoke, and from it the perfectly reformed body of Aerith Gainsborough appears.  Cloud’s breath leaves him all at once, sharp and agonized.  

“Now, see, that’s the reaction I was looking for.  Come on, what a deal, right?  One life, for one life.  You serve me, help me get rid of this upstart goody two shoes, and your girl goes free.  One Get-Out-Of-Hell free card.  How’s that sound?”

Brow furrowed, eyes wet and wide, the man falls to his knees before her.  “… how?”  He whispers. “How did she come here?”  She’s supposed to be in the lifestream – supposed to be at peace.

“That would be the Heartless – nasty little guys, with the feelers, and the big eyes?”  He mimes with his hands.  “Any world taken by Heartless, any people killed, those souls all come here.  Good, bad, ugly, whatever.  And your little girlfriend here, too.”

Cloud’s throat goes dry.  He knows his answer before his mouth opens.  “What do I have to do?”

The smirk on Hades’ face takes on a sharp edge.

 

* * *

 

It takes agony.  It takes letting Hades sear into his flesh the words of enchantment that will bind him.  It takes letting him cut and paste his body like a doll, taking piece by piece the parts that make him human.  It takes swearing his soul into servitude until such time as the contract has been fulfilled.  It takes blood, sweat, suffering, and tears. 

And when it is over, he watches Aerith’s body brighten, and then fade away.

“Wait, you said -!”  Despite his exhaustion, he leaps to his feet, even as Hades holds his hands up.

“Hold your horses, kid, she’s fine,” He swipes a hand behind him.  A portal appears, showing another place, somewhere beautiful and full of life.  He sees her, sees her eyes blink open and his heart skips.  A gasp tears out of his throat.  She’s alive.  “See?”  Hades grins.  “Am I a God of my word, or what?  She’s safe, she’s alive, and I even went and sent her somewhere nice, see?”  He gestures to the world.  “I mean, come on, you didn’t expect her to stay here, with you, did you?  Down in the Underworld with the damned and dearly departed?”

That cold truth sinks into his chest like a lead weight.  “No…”  Cloud murmurs, eyes somber as he watches the girl stand, shock upon her face.  She deserves better than this, than him.  Better that she live in this other world, this world full of flowers.

 

* * *

 

“That’s him?”  Cloud stares in shock at his target, then turns angry eyes upon Hades.  “I can’t kill a kid!”

“Hm, well, that’s unfortunate” The man scratches his chin.  “Because I seem to recall something about _owning your soul_ until you do.”

The realization has his stomach sinking, and he looks back at the boy helplessly.  He’s training with his mentor, long gangly limbs and youthful vigor tripping him up each time.  It hits too close to home.  “No,” Cloud frowns.  “I won’t.”

Something in Hades’ face then almost looks pleased.  “Fine,” He shrugs.  “I guess he can wait, Prophecies take time and all, and maybe you’ll man up when he’s older and less baby-faced.  Fine.  Until then…”  He smirks.  “I’ll find a use for you.”

He feels used.  Used and tricked and Cloud knows he still would have done it, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

He still can’t regret it.  He _hates_ it, hates Hades with all his might, but the knowledge that she is out there alive and well gives him peace.

Sometimes, he will summon up a portal in the manner of Hades – a talent given to him along with all the dark magic pumped into his blood – and watch her.  She’s with their friends, and she is happy.  But sometimes he sees her glance up at the sky with forlorn eyes, and it almost looks as if she sees him and he ends the spell, feeling shamed and vulnerable and so incredibly alone.

 

* * *

 

 

_She stands in flowers, a thousand worlds away.  The world is peaceful, but her mind rebels against it.  A strand of nerves runs beneath her skin._

_Her hands tremble at her sides.  She stares up at the blue sky, her hair and ribbon fluttering in the wind, and she just knows something is wrong._

_“Cloud…”  Aerith whispers.  “Where are you?”_

 

* * *

 

Months turn to years.  Over time, Cloud learns his “place” in this new realm.  Hades will give him orders, and he must obey them.  His body is compelled to from the spell upon his arm; and his soul is compelled by the torment he’s put through every time he manages to disobey anyway.

But the God is smart, and his spell tricky.  It – warps him.  Shifts his thoughts and his actions, whispers in the back of his mind, and Cloud wonders if this is anything like what Sephiroth suffered at Jenova’s hands.  In battle, with every kill and every wound inflicted, a rush of euphoric pleasure floods him, like nothing he has ever felt, tingling up from his arm.  He has never enjoyed battle as much before and never taken pleasure in pain.  He doesn’t want to.  He has no choice.

Sometimes, if the command is strong enough, and he still resists, the spell overwhelms him with a bloodlust he can’t control.  More than once he has awoken to find himself covered in blood and filth, surrounded by the dead, and he weeps that this is what he is now.  He is a monster.  He is the nightmare children are warned away from. 

Time ceases to have meaning, and Cloud ceases to have any hope.

 

* * *

 

 

Sora leaves, and Cloud remains.

He doesn’t let the kid know that he is far from free.  It’s obvious the Keyblade Bearer thought it was just a matter of a verbal agreement gone wrong – that he can just walk away and never serve Hades again.  If it were only that simple.

Today has been a struggle; the battle against Hercules is one he’s postponed for a long time.  Now, he is resigned to it. His life is no longer of his own making, and if Hades wants Hercules dead, he will have to do it.  So he entered the tournament, ready for it all to finally be over.

But the boy… he couldn’t do it.  For the same reason he couldn’t kill Hercules all those years ago.  He was so young, so soft and full of light, and with a grin and a laugh which brought to mind people Cloud has not seen in a long time.  He can’t kill this boy.  He struggles with the command throughout the day, dizzy from the rush in his head, the whispers and the promises, the thrum of energy beneath his skin…

Hades must have realized he was fighting back.  He released Cerberus as a punishment, as a way of killing the kid and hurting Cloud in the process.  By some miracle, the kid survived.  That alone makes this all worth it.

Cloud does not avoid the inevitable.  He returns to the Underworld.

Blue mist rolls out from the land of the dead, as Cloud strides with purpose through its shadows.  This place is his domain now as much as Hades’.  He does not fear it.  He does not like it, either.

In time he comes to the throne room, at the end of a long narrow stair, dark and secluded above the great lake.

The moment he enters he is besieged by fire.

“ **Look who decided to _show up_.”**   Smoky hands lengthened by magic grip his throat and lift him from the ground.  He may not need to breathe but it still hurts.  Everything always hurts. 

He is thrown through the air into the far wall, where more fire bristles upon his skin.  Like Hades, his role has made him somewhat impervious to the element, but it can still be used to hurt.  It is a magic fire, the kind that can crawl between your ribs and blister your soul.  Hades has done it before.

“How many times,” The man mutters, hand thrust before him.  “How many times must we go through this!?  It’s a simple arrangement.  You do what I want, I don’t maim you.  Done and done.  But after all these years, you _still don’t get it_.”  A chain manifests from nothing, and swings through the room – CRACK.  It busts against the side of his head and he falls, seeing stars.

Dazed and confused, he groans as the metal wraps itself around his body, tying him up.  “You don’t make the rules, Spiky.  I do.  And when I say you kill the brat – you kill the brat.  Capiche?”  Cloud says nothing.  A moment later, Hades bursts into red flame and screeches.  “Fine!  Let’s see how this changes your mind!”

The chains lift him into the air, toss him from the room, and he freefalls into the lake below.

 

_\- tbc_


	2. still breathing

_“We’re friends… aren’t we?”_

He opens his eyes.  Green fills his gaze – green like Mako, like the musty clouds covering Midgar’s skies.  Only in these emerald waves he sees faces, sunken eyes, tormented, twisted mouths, and Cloud remembers.  He’s bleeding, dizzy, and chained up, sinking to the bottom of the River Styx.

For a surreal moment he thinks to wonder why Zack’s voice had come to him.  Then, in the moments after as he hits the bottom, the weight of his pain and the water over him hit him hard and chase all thoughts away. 

Being “alive” – if that is what Cloud is anymore – and being in the River is torture.  Its needles and ice shoved under your skin and fire burning behind your eyes, endless screams tearing at your ears as the jealous, vengeful dead sink their hands into you.  They do not like visitors, and a single touch can visit the effects of their death upon the victim.  Cloud is swathed in the dead, feeling their rage and pain with every suffocating swirl of water.

He hopes Zack isn’t here.  By all the Gods, he hopes Zack is anywhere but here.

 

* * *

 

 

“Watch out!”  

Just as the wall of pottery on the side of the stall was about to collapse, a hand catches the falling beam and steadies it.  The shocked storekeeper gives a gasp of delight, rushing to make things right again.  “Oh, thank you so much sir, you have no idea –“

“No problem.”  A handsome young man responds to the woman, who falls silent and blinks in shock at the kind grin on the man’s chiseled face.  “What’s a hero if he can’t help a pretty girl, huh?”

She goes agog at this, a faint blush over her face.  “Oh, y – you’re too kind!”

The man starts to laugh it off, just before a large arm wraps around his neck and tugs, catching him in a chokehold.  “You’re too much, is what she meant to say.”  Hercules grins at his friend.  His hold is weak, playful, which becomes apparent when the black-haired companion easily pulls his arm away.

“Oh, come on,” The man retorts, elbowing him.  “You’re messing with my game, here.”  The girl is charmed, anyway; she giggles into her hand, clearly overwhelmed by the attention of both of the young, handsome heroes.   The first man turns his attention back to her, extending his hand.  “A pleasure to meet you ma’am.  The name’s Zaccheus, but you can call me Zack.”

“Aaand we’re leaving now.”  Rolling his eyes, Hercules grabs the man’s shoulders, pulling him along as the other starts to protest.  “We’re late for training, thanks to you.  No more dawdling!”

“See you around sometime!”  Zack manages to call out to the woman waving farewell to them.  Finally, with a last smile, he turns and walks willingly along with his friend.  “You are such a killjoy.”

“Hades is a killjoy.  I’m just a workaholic.”

“Same thing.”

They bicker and banter the rest of the way to the coliseum, finishing the final mile as a race that ends too close to tell the victor.  This only leads to more playful banter, which only ends at the shrill outcry of their trainer approaching.

“What’re you lugs tryna do, bore me to death?  Yeesh.”  Phil, shaking his head, turns and walks back into the arena, complaining all the way.  “Making me wait longer then Penelope waited for Odysseus here…”

The men chuckle at that, making to follow; only, Zack’s step catches in the doorway.

_“I said I’d live out both our lives.”_

Blinking, the man stands still as stone. _What…?_

_“Easy to make that promise.”_

  
He glances back; wide green eyes scan the horizon.  Nothing.

“Zack?”  His gaze snaps back to Hercules.  “Something wrong?”

After a moment, the young man shakes his head, and starts running to catch up.  But for the rest of the day, he has trouble shaking the oddity.  It lingers in his head, tasting of bitter iron and smog, with the echo of someone… screaming.  Screaming like they’d lost everything.  And the whole time he can’t help thinking…

_Aren’t I supposed to be somewhere else?_

 

* * *

 

 

Two hours he struggles; two hours he drowns without end.  It’s futile to fight it.  Still, he tries, because something in Cloud rebels at stagnation, at just giving up.  His whole life has been a series of impossible outcomes, of facing outrageous odds.  He doesn’t always come out on top, and this is clearly one of those times.

He floats near the bottom, wounded and worn, his tears invisibly amid the murky water.  It’s past bearing.  All of it is.  There’s only so many times a soul can suffer such profound pain and be left unbroken.  Cloud floats in the mire and his soul cries out for help as it has so many times, and once again he’s left with silence.  The tears flow harder.

_Please. Someone, anyone.  Please.  Please!_

…

There’s a whisper in the wailing.  Cloud can’t hear it for the pain; but something changes in the water.  A subtle shift.  The spirits murmur among themselves, they feel it, they shiver at the presence of something even the dead can dread.  It passes like a silver wave, and Cloud shakes and cries in his agony, hands grasping at nothing.

_Please!  Gods, anyone please!_

Something brushes against him, and the pain goes silent.  No more drowning; no sensations of death, nothing at all.  Like a cloak wrapped around him, the presence pushes all away, and the delirious Cloud blinks open tired eyes.

Green – Mako green.  But not the water, no, real Mako green eyes.  Whose eyes?  Who is here in Hell with him?  No one… no one, he’s alone, so alone… everyone is gone and he is here… The tears fall down his cheeks and this close, they can be seen by the other.

His mind tires; a gentle push lulls him to sleep, and Cloud knows nothing anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Megara wasn’t a patient woman, even when she was alive.  Being one of the living dead servants of Lord Hades hasn’t helped any.  She puts up with too much of his shit on a daily basis to allow it in any of the living she’s forced to deal with.  Which explains her severely annoyed twitch and irritated glare, standing outside a small house on the outskirts of Thebes.

“He’s been like this for hours,” Zaccheus’s mother murmurs with worry.  “Another one of his episodes, the poor dear.  He hasn’t had one this bad in months.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” The woman mutters, pushing past the old hag to enter her house unbidden.  “Hey, spiky, get your head on straight.”

She can tell from first glance it is definitely a bad episode.  The normally clean house is ransacked.  The man she’s come to see is pacing madly through the main room, his hands alternating between running through his hair and twitching at his sides.  Most tellingly, he’s glowing – there’s a light sheen over his skin, and especially his eyes, the brightest, most brilliant green.

“My head’s fine.”  Zack speaks quickly, sharply.  “Really.  It’s great.  It’s _here_ that’s not.  It’s not – right.  What’s not right?  I can’t remember.  Tell me you remember?  You know him.”

Sighing, Meg shakes her head.  “We’ve been over this.  You always talk about ‘him’ but I can’t help if you don’t give me a damn name.”

“They called him cadet.”  As if she hadn’t spoken, Zack goes on.  His eyes move over her, and everything else, as if they aren’t there.  “He wasn’t.  He was a First Class if there ever was one, best of all of us.  Even Seph would agree – the old Seph.  Angeal too, Angeal has wings now he has – why does he have wings?”

“You tell me.”  Meg, crossing her arms, settles down to wait.  It can take Zack a while to end these rants, and it looks as if she’s going to be hanging around for it. 

“He has a wing, too now, doesn’t he?  Does he think he’s a monster?”  Zack freezes suddenly, head cocked, before he starts moving like a whirlwind again.  He unknowingly kicks a pot that flies across the room, knocking over a pedestal.  Meg winces; this is the most dangerous part of these trances, when Zack loses his control and focus and his strength goes haywire.  “That must be it.  He thinks he’s a monster so he won’t come to me.  But he’s there, I can feel him – and him too.”

“Does anybody you know have a name?”  Meg spits, fuming. 

She came here with a purpose – to let Zack know about Hades newest temper tantrum, how he’s altered his plans for Sora and Hercules.  She can’t tell Herc.  No, she could never face him and tell him the truth of her… affiliations.  But Zack, he’s safe.  She doesn’t give a shit what the other hero thinks of her, and he’s too “noble” to run off and tell Herc the truth.  So, she can safely let a few things slip to keep Hercules safe without endangering herself with Hades. 

But this is not helping.

Standing, she moves to stand in front of Zack, placing her hands on his chest.  “Calm down already, spiky,” She demands, even though the man keeps walking, forcibly moving her along with him.  “Can’t you… just… do this later!?”

“He needs me.”  Suddenly, Zack stops.  “I heard him crying.  We all did.  She’s too far away, and he can’t help right now.  I – I have to go.”  The glow begins to fade; the man’s eyes return to a more natural shade of green.  He blinks, reason returning to his gaze, before a stunned, concerned expression comes over him.  “I have to go.”

Before Meg can say a word, the man races for the door, and is long gone.

 

* * *

 

 Hands… not the soft touch of a spirit, but something real, something physical.  He blinks and the dank air of the underworld stings his eyes.  He gasps, and breathes the putrid air.  Cloud Strife sits up in stunned relief, taking in the world around him, the snapped remnants of the chains near him on the ground, the dark blackened sand of the beach on the edge of the Styx.

“You okay?”  A stranger begins speaking; Cloud can barely hear it through the ringing in his ears.  “What in the world were you doing down there?  You’re alive aren’t you?”

Cloud looks to the speaker, and the whole world falls out from underneath him.

_“Zack?”_

 

* * *

 

 

The hero blinks, surprised.  “Uh, yeah,”  Scratching his head, he asks, “Have we met?”  It’s unlikely – he’d have remembered such unique hair.  Though… this whole situation is strange.  “Also… where are we?  And how the hell did I get here?”  Just after asking, he stiffens with a curse.  “I did it again, didn’t I?  Aw, man.”

Sighing, he turns back to the other man, only to see him crying.  “Hey!”  Worried, Zack rushes over, taking in his appearance.  Physically, he seems fine, no wounds Zack can see.  But the blond is shivering head to foot, eyes wide and blank, tears pouring down his red cheeks.  He just stares, stares at Zack as he backs away nervously.

“No, you… you can’t be…”  The man whispers.  Suddenly he grows angry.  “Is this you, Hades?  Well you can fuck off for all I care!”

“Whoa!”  Zack holds up his hands.  “I’m all for sticking it to the man but maybe don’t tempt fate with the Gods, huh?”

“You hear me!?  I’m done!  Fuck this bullshit, I won’t do this!”

“Do what?  We’re just talking!”  Worried and confused, Zack sets his hands on Cloud’s shoulders, which is apparently the wrong thing to do.  The blond leaps out of his skin, wide wet eyes turning to him.  Zack jumps back, hands up in surrender.

“… you touched me.”

Zack blinks.  “Yeah?”

“The dead, they…”  Confused, the man drifts off.  “They can’t.  Illusions can’t either.  You – you’re warm. Like…”

“The living?”  He offers.

“But if you’re alive…”  Something settles onto the man by the way his jaw drops, his shoulders dropping.  Oh, and also how a moment later, he faints.

“Great,” Zack sighs, hands on his hips.  “Mom’s gonna kill me."


End file.
